


That blasted frycook

by Hollow_Vessel



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Belitting, Foodcourtia, Horrible working conditions, Hurt feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Insults, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollow_Vessel/pseuds/Hollow_Vessel
Summary: Zim’s banishment to Foodcourtia was anything but smooth. The furthest from it.He HATES his coworkers. Most of all, Sizzlorr... And that BLASTED Gashloog...
Relationships: Gashloog/Zim eventually
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	That blasted frycook

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NikauRifka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikauRifka/gifts).



Customers normally streamed in and out of the establishment’s front, sliding door, with each opening of it producing a chirpy tone. It annoyed some customers occasionally, but the frycooks mostly blocked it out after hearing it drone on for years on end. It signifies that there was work yet to be done. Hungry mouths to be fed, orders to be taken and money to be paid.

What wasn’t usual about it though, was for it to be heard on the worker’s breaks. When shop was locked up, the doors closed and the open sign flipped.  
They usually slept here for their breaks, which lasted about five hours. It was ‘closing time’, or, when Sizzlorr had something to do outside of the establishment and couldn’t be the manager, or Gashloog wasn’t in to run the place for him. 

Three pairs of gleaming red eyes glinted in the shade, looking up from their tablets, which they had previously been glued to. 

The silence had been disturbed. Three Irkens scrolling away their breaks on the Irkennet, within the dark recesses of the staff room. Such was how it was. All non-essential lights had been switched off on a timer. Frying vats were closed, trapping in cold, coagulated grease. Vort dog making machines were halted in their larger than life processes, excess meat occasionally dripping down onto the empty tray below. The usual blue-white lights overhead the greasy floors and walls were off, casting an ominous shadow. 

A disturbance of this was rare. Impossible, even. It had never happened... Of the three workers, the tallest, the one with the lightest eyes, and the usual substitute manager, Gashloog, hopped to his feet swiftly. Without much of a commotion, he left his piece of tech in his comfy break seat. 

Being the most senior employee on the premise, he set himself the task of checking out the out of place door chime. He marched towards the front, weaving around pieces of deactivated food machinery, ready to discover who had come in. If it was a customer, to ask them what they needed. 

...But the door was locked, which meant that it was Sizzlorr. And Sizzlorr never came back to the restaurant during closing time. 

Gashloog stepped out of the back and into the space behind the cash register and under the menu. The little flicks of dim light from the two pieces of technology provided very little guiding light. However, his eyes had already adjusted to the darkness that was set over the restaurant. As he approached, his antennae twitched slightly to the stimuli coming from the front of the restaurant.

The sounds of the heavy, ironclad footsteps were unmistakable. Sizzlorr, the frylord. But the dragging sound? That was new. 

Gashloog, while being a slightly taller than usual Irken, still had to use the step stool to see over the register. He stepped onto it to see what his boss was doing, curiosity dancing in his ungoggled eyes.

The dim glass of the sliding door was ajar, allowing the light from outside to pour in. The sounds of loud crowds flooded the quiet, serene space. Though, standing, looming with his menacing purple glare, was his frylord.

Gashloog just stared, not saying anything. Something was off, something about the tense mood of his manager. The kind of mood that only came about when something horrible had occurred. Such as but not limited to, Gashloog jamming the Vort dog machine once, Starch dropping a hot frier of fries, and Pinto mixing up two customers’ orders. And those days were... Very infamous. So, Gashloog had sufficient reason to feel tense as well.

The tension seemed to break as Sizzlorr dropped whatever he was holding onto the ground. It landed with multiple thuds, which sounded oddly enough like a person had fallen. Gashloog pressed his hands into the counter to give himself a small boost, peeking over the register and down to-

Gashloog let out a hiss of pain, claws instantly covering his eyes. The lights in the front of house were _very_ bright. And the shop had, just a moment ago, been pitch black. 

Once the initial shock wore off, the frycook pulled his goggles from where he kept them secure on his belt, then fashioned them over his eyes and looked up. Gashloog’s vision was filtered through the dark red film now. It was... Comforting.  
And now through the comfortable lenses, he could gaze upon his frylord, who had one hand clutching a device in his hand, and one gripping the top of a burlap sack. Gashloog tilted his head, not questioning with his words, but with his eyes, which leapt up to meet Sizzlorr’s, which was scathing with rage. 

“Get your coworkers out here. I have something for them to see.” Came his gruff voice, as booming as ever. Though his tone was... Well, whatever.  
They needed to see whatever... Or whoever, was in that bag, the frycook pieced together. Gashloog didn’t think twice on the order, simply turning and leaping off his step stool, and dashing to the back. He found Starch and Pinto putting on their work attire. Gashloog nodded at this as he himself scurried over, grabbing his hat and quickly putting it over his head. It was this large red blob of headgear with a yellow “S” embroidered on the front. It smelled like grease. 

It might not have looked the coolest, but Gashloog didn’t mind it. He was sure that his coworkers didn’t either. It reminded him of fries.

In nearly record time, the three of them zipped out and stood in front of the counter, Gashloog in the center. They all put their hands behind their back and looked up to their frylord, momentarily ignoring the sack on the floor.

“Gashloog, reporting for duty!”  
“Starch, reporting for duty!”  
“Pinto, reporting for duty!” The three crow in unison, before quietly awaiting whatever their boss was to say, whether it be good, or bad. 

What it was, was surely unexpected. And without precedent. 

“Heh. I’d like you ALLL to meet your new coworker, ZIM.” He kicked the lump on the ground, cashing the edges of it to roll off of the.. Irken hidden inside. He was small, around the height of Pinto, but somehow even shorter. One of his antennae was badly bent up towards the middle and end of it. And overall, the little thing was badly bruised, with even some scuffs on his PAK.  
“He will unfortunately be staying with us for the foreseeable future.” Sizzlorr said, tone drawing out a bit. He wasn’t sure what else to say about it. While he was happy to have his restaurant used for something so important, this was certainly not ideal.

The three coworkers gazed down upon their brand new coworker, noting how... Odd he looked. Well, he just looked odd to them because they didn’t get to see many Irkens...  
Thankfully, though, there was no blood from the battered Irken, or Gashloog would have to clean it up. It WAS his turn, after all.  
...Oh, how would this affect the turn orders... Surely it would be a good thing! Everyone would get a considerable portion of their work cut! Gashloog couldn’t help but feel his mood lighten at that.

“Is he alive?” Gashloog questioned after an awkward moment of silence.

“Unfortunately. Take this defect to the back. Get him ready to work within the hour. I’ll fix the shift schedule.” His left antenna twitched as he finished, before his gaze narrowed. 

“NOW!” He barked, stomping his foot.

They didn’t need to be told again. Gashloog and Starch quickly went forwards and picked up the unnamed Irken under the arms, before pulling him along. Pinto only took a moment before making himself busy, dashing off to the back room to get their work uniform. 

The defective's feet dragged along the floor, but he didn’t stir. His head was pitched forwards, antennae hanging as well. Gashloog looked down as him as they stepped past the threshold and into the employees only area. He supposed that this made it official. The... hiring of the... defect.

Oh, they had their work cut out for them. The process ran through his mind as the two of them managed to drag their new coworker to the backroom. In an act of kindness, not unlike the typical behavior of a service drone, Gashloog directed Starch to place their new worker into HIS chair. It was the comfiest they had, of course, for the most senior frycook. It even had a cup holder built into the arm rest (Gashloog kept his occasional slushies there). 

Once he was sat up in the chair, it became quite clear just how small he was. Gashloog and Starch looked over their coworker critically, before both coming to the conclusion that his injuries wouldn’t prevent him from working. 

“Do we have freezy packs?” Starch asked, still thinking on the condition of the mysterious new Irken... Zim was his name.  
Gashloog shook his head, staring at the newbie for a moment longer, before heading off to the storage room to get- Oh!

Pinto was in front of Gashloog now. He offered forth the standard work uniform, a serious expression on his face. Gashloog took the grease stained apron, hat, and goggles. With only a glance, he could tell that the apron would be too big for the very small, very tiny Zim.

“Is this the smallest one we have?” He looked up from the cloth to meet Pinto’s eyes, looking for confirmation. He nodded curtly. Gashloog nodded back before marching off, slipping the hat and goggles onto the new employee’s head, then putting on his apron. It covered all of his lower half, including his feet. 

Now that just wouldn’t do. Gashloog tapped his foot on the ground in thought, biting his lip. How would... Well, it wasn’t in his jurisdiction. He couldn’t fix that issue, so he ignored it.

His antennae perked slightly as he heard his frylord enter the employees only area. Sizzlorr walked loud, he couldn’t help but notice it. Gashloog peaked out of the break room, catching a flash of apron disappearing behind a corner. The shift schedule!

Gashloog smiled and quickly and quietly followed behind him, wanting to see what the shifts would change to.

Sizzlorr began erasing names off of the squares, erasing the jobs off of some of the names, then scribbling in the new information. Zim’s shifts, no doubt. 

Gashloog watched with confused eyes, waiting to see what the results of the change would be. It looked pretty drastic.

Sizzlorr hummed a short tune as he erased another of Gashloog’s shifts, replaced it with a long break, and then wrote in Zim’s name, simply writing MASCOT beneath it. 

Once he finished the last square, he looked down to his most loyal employee, whom he had just treated to three extra days off and thirty minutes added to his breaks. He couldn’t help but smile to him, the first of the day. Sizzlorr took a step back to admire his work, hands resting against the sides of his stained apron.

“Here’s your new schedule, consider it a reward for your impeccable work.” Sizzlorr rumbled.  
Gashloog smiled. Seeing his frylord in a good mood was rare. His eyes soon wandered to the time schedule. His antennae perked as he tried to comprehend what he was reading- Three more days off in the week and hour long breaks. He no longer had a shift wearing the hot-grease filled mascot suit (thank IRK for that), nor did he have nearly as many cleaning shifts, and his coworkers also had similar cuts to their work time, though not as extreme as Gashloog’s. But the information that was the most pleasant surprise was the wage numbers. Increases to Gashloog’s, Starch’s, and Pinto’s numbers. Simply a few ten extra monies per hour, but... It was considerable. 

He saluted Sizzlorr. “Thank you my FRYLORD!” Gashloog could save up for some fluffy pillows now. 

Gashloog... couldn’t help but notice that their new coworker was shouldering about half of the shifts. But, he reasoned that this would be normal for any new employee...

Though, when he started, he also happened to be the only worker alongside Sizzlorr. It was a no brainer that he had worked over half of the shifts and did most of the work. Sizzlorr was the one who owned the place, it was only fair with the high pay he was given. 

Content with his memorization of his new hours, Gashloog went off to inform Starch, Zim, and Pinto about it. 

The sight he was greeted with when he entered the break room was not at all welcome. 

There, the new employee, standing with a plastic knife held to Starch’s throat, and his apron ripped to shreds.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!? PUTTING THAT FIILTHY _FIIIIIIILLLTHY_ RAG ON ZIMMM!!!”

Gashloog heard his loud shouts, and immediate ran forward to diffuse the situation, all the while hoping that Zim would settle in sooner rather than later. For everyone’s sake. But, Gashloog also did not think that the customers would be very receptive if Zim continued shouting into his shift, which would be starting... probably soon. 

At least it would be. Interesting?... Oh goodness, Gashloog wasn’t looking forward to this. For a food drone, they sure... Didn’t act like one.  
With a blank expression, Gashloog headed over to try and pull Zim off of his coworker. Starch at least didn’t seem very miffed about it, expression blank as he quietly tried to tell Zim to stop. Sloog was just glad that this... loud, rude Irken has only managed to get his claws on a plastic blade and not a real one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had this written for like a month here I’ll make a chapter two sometime,,,  
> I might have to or uh m. Gashloog would murder me


End file.
